


Day One

by earthphoenix (roughknuckles)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry, Canada, Character Death Fix, Kissing, M/M, Memories, Pensieves, Post-Hogwarts, Pre-Slash, Souls, Starting Over, Travel, Veritaserum, canon death ignored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-25
Updated: 2007-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1386799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roughknuckles/pseuds/earthphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after the war, where Harry is an auror and life has mostly moved on for people in the wizarding world. But then Harry gets a letter, from Snape: Is it a joke? Is it a trap? Or more terrifying, is it for real?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Coffee_. Coffee was the only thought Harry could manage as he stared at the tall, styrofoam cup on his desk. He'd pulled an all-nighter again, sleeping at his desk for brief fits of rest while he plowed through his mountain of auroring paperwork with a steady, numb feeling. _Words don't even make sense anymore._   
  
The young man had been an auror for three years now, and despite, or perhaps because of his fearsome reputation as Voldemort's killer and the vanquisher of the Dark Lord's army and Fenrir Greyback, went through partners like tissue paper.   
  
At the moment, no one sat at the desk opposite Harry's, the only things occupying it were stacks of files Potter shoved off of his own working space, almost building a physical wall between himself and his coworkers, most of whom he found staring slack-jawed at one time or another. The coffee scalded the back of his throat and he pulled a face, then took another swallow, hoping it would abate the growling in his stomach.  
  
Down the hall, several owls screeched and protested as a golden eagle soared through their airspace, harassing the smaller birds as he flew to Harry’s desk, landing on the highest point he could manage. In his sharp talons, the eagle held a rolled up piece of parchment. Whatever letter he carried, had not gone through the normal channels, and most definitely had not been intercepted by any other owl or wizard.  
  
Harry blinked and looked around, "Does anyone else see an eagle on my desk?" A few people paused and nodded hesitantly, but Harry just sighed, grumbling, "Good, thought I was hallucinating again." Harry reached over to the sharp-beaked bird and tugged the parchment out of his deadly-looking talons that at the moment were scraping the brass coating off of a lamp on his desk.  
  
The bird shifted his weight as the parchment was taken from him, turning his head to one side, then the other, getting a proper look at Harry before deciding that cleaning his feathers was more important.  
  
The young auror sat back in his swivel chair and unrolled the thick paper, frowning at the familiar handwriting that he just couldn't place before he began to read.  
  
The beginning was unnaturally formal   
  
_Ministry of Magic, auror 2nd class, Mr Harry Potter_   
  
The body of the letter however was much less formal, in fact, in such contrast then the beginning that it could very easily be dismissed as a joke.   
  
_I have something of yours.  
  
Nova Scotia is lovely. _   
  
However vague the message, there was one thing that demanded Harry take it seriously. And it resided in two letters, the initials of a man who had gone to great pains, until now, to be left alone.   
  
_S.S._  
  
Harry closed his eyes for a moment, shook his head clear and read it over again before he stood, walking into Shacklebolt's office without knocking, again. "Sir?"  
  
Kingsley looked up with a smile, he had been balancing the point of his quill on the end of his finger, it was his lunch break after all and his Tai delivery had yet to arrive. "Yes Harry?"   
  
Harry shut the door and handed the letter to him, "I'm going to need a couple days"  
  
Thumbing the edge of parchment as he read the letter several times over, Kingsley considered, then looked to Harry, "Take as long as you need. But if it is more then two days, send an owl, else we’ll have our North American offices come find you."

It was in the way that Kingsley authorized Harry to do as he wished that suggested he knew better then to suggest otherwise anyway. While traditional protocol demand Harry travel with nothing less then an entourage of six, especially considering the nature of Severus Snape’s unresolved war crimes (all of which Kingsley Shacklebolt more or less kept on the bottom of his pile of things to follow up on), he would be allowed digression for this personal issue.  
  
"Sure," Harry reached his hand out for the letter, expectantly.  
  
"No unnecessary risks, alright Harry?" Kingsley said with a light sigh as he passed the letter back.  
  
"Sir." Harry answered, neither a yes or a no as he left the office, grabbed his coffee and his jacket and headed straight to the portkeys reserved for ministry business.

 

*            *            *

 

Nova Scotia, the second smallest province of Canada, a peninsula surround by the Atlantic Ocean, shores notorious for shipwrecks; in some regards it was not that much different from Scotland. Today however, was considered a good day, partly cloudy and light rain.   
  
Harry's feet touched down with a thud and his body followed against the hard turf not far from a rocky shore that looked like it could have sliced him in half. For a moment, he just lay there, exhausted by the trans-atlantic apparation, breathing and looking up at a cloudy sky that rolled overhead quickly. The auror stood, dusting himself off and looking around, the island was small, of course, but not small enough to cross on foot. The best thing to do, he reasoned was to find a town and ask around ... _but if he wants to see you, he'll find you, won't he?_ Harry looked up at the sky again, searching for an epiphany and finding none.  
  
The smooth pebbles ground against each other, slushing as the waves rolled over them, crashing on the beach. Just north of Harry was in fact a small town nestled comfortably among the cliffs. It was just after seven in the morning for the locals, which meant the fishermen had just gotten back from work and were now enjoying breakfast and coffee in their homes, or more likely, the local diner.   
  
Harry was walking along the shore, wary, senses alert when he saw the tiny village to the north and walked to it, feeling blatantly conspicuous and wishing his father's cloak hadn't been set on fire during the war. He made his way through town and to the only alive building, to the diner, looking in the window of the door before he walked in as unobtrusively as possible for a complete stranger.  
  
Not being a tourist town, it was small, there were two other people other then Harry who were out of place; backpackers who had their gear littered at their feet, filling up on a good meal before heading off on their hiking trip of the challenging landscape.   
  
Several locals looked up from their coffee when Harry walked in, but mostly the young man was ignored. Severus Snape however turned around completely on the stool he sat upon, as if being able to sense another wizard among the simple company of muggles. "Coffee-" Severus ordered from the waitress who stood behind the counter, about to tell Harry to sit anywhere. Snape wore a black wool sweater, with a light brown scarf over his shoulders, and pants, not robes.   
  
Harry froze, looking at Snape who sat among muggles in the small, run down diner. It looked completely surreal to see his former professor so wildly out of context. The young auror pulled himself up to his full height and walked over, holding up the parchment, "You rang?"  
  
The waitress put down a cup of fresh, hot coffee on the countertop next to Severus where a seat remained empty.   
  
"Have a seat. Have you eaten?"  
  
Harry wanted to scream at him, punch him in the face, pull out his wand and hex him into pieces right there in the diner. All he could see in the moment was Dumbledore's dead body, the way his neck was bent almost in half like roadkill and his blank, blank eyes. "No" he replied curtly and sat, every movement controlled.  
  
"Order what you like." Severus said neutrally, breaking his gaze from Harry’s eyes, turning forward on the stool once more just as his plate of eggs on toast was set before him.  
  
"Coffee, please-" he asked the waitress behind the counter, who looked both alarmed and charmed by him.  
  
Severus pointed with the end of his fork to the coffee he had just ordered for Harry, but said nothing as he cut the egg, letting the yellow yoke ooze out over the bread which he cut into pieces to eat.  
  
"Oh-" he half grunted, picking up the coffee and hesitating before he asked the waitress, "this is cold, may I have a new cup?"

The waitress winked at him, "Sure, honey ..."  
  
After Severus ate most of his simple meal, one he surely could have made himself, he wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin and spoke to Harry casually, as if he were asking his opinion on if he thought it would rain later that day, "Once you get what you've come for, will you have me arrested?"  
  
Harry took his new cup of coffee from the waitress gently. "I'm not sure yet, honestly. That might be your best chance ..."  
  
"My best chance for what?" Severus asked curiously.  
  
"Survival," Harry fixed Snape with a clear, thousand-yard stare.  
  
It was in the casual way that Severus put the prongs of his fork faced down, to indicate that he was done eating, and the way he reached into his back pocket to pull out a wallet to retrieve money that suggested he was surviving just fine without ministry involvement.  
  
Harry fumed, looking into the pool of his dark coffee. _Arrogant,_ he thought, grinding his teeth, "Am I coming outside too or is our little date over?"  
  
"At your leisure Mr Potter."  
  
 _Potter_ was already standing, keeping his gaze away from Snape's.  
  
Standing, Severus casually waved good-bye to the waitress and the two local fisherman who sat next to him. Wrapping the scarf around his neck, Severus pushed the door open and left the cozy diner, then pushed his hands into his pockets for warmth as he started to walk up the road, a mix of dirt and pebble.   
  
Harry followed, his hands in his jacket pockets, right hand around his wand as he stalked after Snape. "So," he half growled when they were far enough away from the diner, "what is it of mine that you have?"  
  
"You’ll see shortly." Severus said as the road got steeper, but between the massive pine trees it was finally clear where they were headed, a cabin on the hill which overlooked the ocean.  
  
Harry's jaw locked again and his now longer dark hair blew over his hardened young features as the wind picked up on top of the hill. Snape could have inferii in there, he could have the rest of the surviving death eaters in there, waiting for Harry. Young Potter squeezed his wand, drawing it out of his pocket silently, but not pointing it.  
  
The cloud cover thickened slightly the higher the elevation got, but it was still pleasant, a light mist was on its way out as the earth warmed to the sun. Leading Harry up to the front door of the single story cottage, he opened the unlocked door kicking the mud that had collected under his boots on the door frame.  
  
Harry waited a long moment, listening intently, before he followed, doing the same. "Any roommates?" he asked, pointedly.  
  
"Hardly- unless of course you count the squirrel eating a hole in my roof." The cottage was simple, divided in half, the room they were in consisted of a couch, a desk and chair, and a refrigerator and sink in the corner, the second room one could only assume was the bedroom and bathroom. Over Snape’s desk was a glass display case, which Severus pulled out a small purple bottle, thumbing over it thoughtfully for a moment before he turned, showing it to Harry. "This memory is for you, as is the subject the memory indicates."   
  
Harry narrowed his green eyes into flat, cat-like slits before he reached out and took it, glancing briefly at the title on the bottle and then glancing at it again, his wand hand loosening on his wand, "This is from ..."  
  
"Your mother."  
  
Potter stepped back, shooting Snape another suspicious look, "How did you get this?"  
  
"We agreed upon it for this purpose precisely."   
  
Heart racing stupidly in his chest, Harry felt himself stumble back into a couch, which he stayed in for a long moment, weighing his options, the possibilities. _It could be a trick, a cruel joke, a trap ..._ but it could be his mother, too. Potter swallowed and looked up, through his glasses, "You mean for me to view it here?"  
  
"Together, if you prefer."  
  
"Is that necessary?"  
  
"It is necessary that you view it, it is not necessary that I join you." Severus said quite simply.  
  
Harry nodded, turning the bottle over and over, "How do I know this is real?"  
  
"You will know it is real when you view it. However, if you require to be satisfied before even viewing it, then I suggest you propose your conditions."  
  
The Gryffindor's mind scrambled, _how could I tell if a memory is real or not?_ He felt, once again, as though he were stuck in Snape's dungeon and it was the potions master who was asking him the question with disdain burning in his black eyes as Harry's mind went completely blank. He licked his lips, thinking, not letting himself be rushed by Snape in the room, or the Snape in his head before he replied. "I want you to drink five drops of veritaserum and then to tell me that this memory has not been tampered with."  
  
Summoning a bottle to his open hand, Severus produced a familiar bottle, showing it to Harry, "Would you care to examine this as well Mr Potter? To see that it is in fact veritaserum?"  
  
Harry half smirked, pulling a bottle from his own jacket. "I brought my own," he tossed it underhand to Snape, "standard issue auror veritaserum. You'll see the seal is unbroken on the bottle, and it bears ... your own signature I believe, from your days of supplying the ministry as part of your professorial duties."  
  
Putting down his bottle on the top of the empty desk, Severus broke the seal of the bottle Harry had given him. Turning his head in profile, Severus gently tipped the bottle, letting a light stream fall into his mouth, it was more then five drops, but still, barely a thimble full of the precious potion. He licked his lips of it, then resealed the bottle, waiting for once for Harry’s approval.   
  
Harry's eyes relaxed a little, surprised at Snape's complicity. "Alright ..." he licked his dry lips again, and held up the purple bottle, "does this bottle contain a genuine and untampered-with memory of my mother's?"  
  
"Yes. It has not been viewed or altered in any way since it was made."  
  
"Did she make it with the intention that I should view it later?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Was my mother under imperio, or any spell or potion that impaired her free will when she made this memory for me?"  
  
"No."  
  
Harry nodded, "Do you have a pensieve?"  
  
"Yes." Severus walked to his bedroom, disappearing for a moment before he returned with a small stone bowl. It was empty. There were no previously saved memories.  
  
Harry took it and set it down on a table, uncorking the bottle reverently before he glanced back at Snape, "Do you have any plans to ambush or attack me alone or with accomplices?"  
  
"No."  
  
Harry responded with a curt nod and took a deep breath before he lowered the open bottle and tipped it slowly, emptying the memory into the pensive, letting it swirl and settle a little before he leaned forward, sinking his face into the bowl.  
  
Severus remained standing infront of Harry as he slipped into the memory, he waited patiently, a little disappointed, but not surprised that he was not invited. He closed his eyes and tried to think back to that day, where the memory began and where it ended. What was said, and of course, what was done.  
  
At twenty years old, Severus Snape was a different man. His features remained intense, his eyes alert, but there was a noticeable difference between the Snape Harry had just spoken to, and the one that was sitting across from Lily. He was shy, everything in his manner suggested that the young man, who in two years, would be the youngest professor Hogwarts had seen, was self conscious of every movement, every gesture, every word he uttered.  
  
Snape was part of a generation who were forced to grow up too quickly. As the young man, only three years out of Hogwarts, was already spying against the dark lord Voldemort. While Lily, a young wife, and young mother, held her infant child in her arms.  
  
Harry was sleeping against his mother's shoulder, his small back rising and falling in peaceful, even breaths. His adult self stared at the infant's smooth, scarless forehead in wonder. Lily was worried. Her large, green eyes were downcast and she wouldn't stop rubbing Harry's back even though the baby didn't need any soothing. The young mother's dark red hair was pinned up loosely with a muggle pencil but dangled down over her forehead, curling softly around her ears. She looked across the table and took a deep breath, "Severus ... can I get you some tea? Something to eat? Anything?" Harry had the feeling she was putting something off.  
  
"No Lily. Thank you." Severus watched her, then after a moment continued, "Have- you changed your mind?"  
  
Her eyes went down to the red tablecloth between them, creases still in it from being folded tightly. "No," the word was barely more than a whisper, "no. I think it's the only way, the only way I can take action on right now that might save him." Lily looked up at Severus again, more than a flicker of fear in her eyes, "He's young, he's a baby and that's best- it couldn't be done if he were much older, it would split and cause ... " she shook her head, chewing her lower lip for a moment. "It has to be done, and today," she paused, tense, "you haven't changed your mind, have you?"  
  
"No Lily, I have not changed my mind." Severus took a deep breath, then another, he seemed to grow in that time. "I want to do this for you. And pray to Merlin it will not have to be for very long."  
  
She stood, repeating, mostly to herself, "It won't hurt him, his soul is still ephemerous, enough of it will grow back ..."

The adult Harry's eyes widened, _my soul will grow back!?_

Lily paced smoothly, almost through her grown son in the memory, fretting darkly and Harry understood, watching her, why Ron and Hermione gave him wide berth when he was anxious about something. Lily's green eyes were darkening, and her features seemed angry for a moment before she turned to Snape, "Now. We have to do it now or I'll never do it."  
  
Severus had waited Lily patiently out until at least she stopped, he stepped closer, holding out his hands palm up, to hold the infant in her arms. "He will be safe, I promise you. Lily. _I promise you_."  
  
"And will you?" She asked sternly, "None of this will help anyone if you let yourself become reckless, Severus."  
  
Holding the boy in his arms, Severus was careful not to awaken the child, he looked to the young life in his arms, then to his mother. "I will take every precaution with your son’s soul. But should something happen, it will leave me and return to him automatically. My magic will no longer exist to hold it, but while I live Lily, he will be safe. I shall keep his soul safe until it is time to give it back."  
  
"You can't-" she struggled for words, her breath speeding in her lungs as she looked down at the baby with anguished eyes, "you can't favor him, Severus. Don't take any action at all that might suggest you're actually protecting him, you're the last person anyone would suspect might ... you know what I mean ... oh gods, just ..." Lily had to turn away for a second, "I hope we're doing the right thing, but if the prophecy is true, he'll have to kill, probably more than once and I don't want my son left with rags for a soul when he might not have a choice in the matter."  
  
Severus turned his back as well, preferring that Lily not see what he was about to do. He began to speak to Harry in what seemed to be ancient poetry, the words breathed onto Harry’s face, but it was not love sonnets Severus spoke, but dark magic. Severus touched a finger to the infant boy’s jaw, opening his mouth as the magic of the words began to draw out the soul of the infant Harry Potter.

Lily turned, shaking, tears in her eyes, but she forced herself to watch as Severus performed the ritual, "God, please, not all of it, not all ..."  
  
Harry’s soul was young, pure, and sweet. Severus breathed in, over and over, no longer exhaling, not daring to let any of it escape. Harry began to cry and Severus began to choke, passing the infant to Lily quickly. The act crippled Severus for a moment, he fell to the floor, gasping, swallowing, keeping Harry’s soul locked away in himself.   
  
Lily took Harry immediately, hugging him to her, rubbing his back, "Severus?"  
  
"Yes-" Severus gasped, "it’s alright ... he’s alright."   
  
Harry's mother summoned a blanket, wrapping it around Harry securely and looking down at him, tears coursing down her face. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry ..." he calmed and looked up at her, uncertain, "you're alright, and ... this might make things a little confusing for you but in the end, it'll be worth it." She wiped one of her own tears off of Harry's cheek, and another with shaking fingers, "it will be worth it when this is all over, I promise, I promise ..." Lily hugged her son tightly, looking at Severus over his tiny shoulder and nodding in thanks.  
  
Standing, Severus looked pale as ever, but there was a stronger flicker of life to his otherwise dark eyes.   
  
The redheaded young woman smiled through her tears and the memory faded slowly, even though Harry scrambled to stay, trying to cling to something, anything that would keep him there. He was expelled as the memory ended and found himself gasping, eyes closed as he clutched the sides of the pensieve, back in Snape's hideout again.  
  
When Harry emerged from the pensive, Severus took off his scarf casually, laying it on the table next to the pensive and empty bottle of memory. _Well?_   
  
The only color in Harry's face at all was the green of his wide, wet eyes. He looked at Snape, the keeper of his soul since before he could remember sounds or colors ... and everything went black before he hit the floor.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The window in Snape’s bedroom was open, fresh ocean  air blew into the small room, blowing the purple, almost black curtains. On the nightstand beside the bed, Severus had a small dish of oil burning, making the room smell of exotic spices.

Severus stood in the open archway that separated the bedroom from the rest of his solitary home. All he would do now is wait while Harry slept off the shock, laying out on his bed.  
  
The young auror's eyelids twitched and he took a deep, shaky breath, opening one eye slowly. He felt a little sedated by the heavy, foreign oils in the air because his heart didn't start hammering in his chest the moment he remembered what he'd just learned.  
  
"Do you need something to drink?" Severus asked, his arms folded over his chest, uncomfortable offering any more services then he had already provided.  
  
Harry breathed in the spiced air slowly and nodded, speaking with a dry throat that made his voice feel raspy, "Yes ..."  
  
Disappearing from the archway, Severus turned on the tap in the kitchen and began to pour Harry a glass of water. He returned moments later, walking to one side of the bed and holding out the glass.   
  
Harry had sat up a little, drowsy, one hand rubbing his forehead in an expression of exhaustion. He heard Snape approach and looked up, taking the glass, "Thanks."  
  
Once the young auror had what he required, well, the water at least, Severus withdrew again, standing back from the bed, giving Harry room, or any excuse to feel more uncomfortable then he already was.   
  
Harry held the glass and looked at Severus, his eyes focusing a little better. "So ..." he swallowed, unsure exactly what he was supposed to feel in this situation, "so ... what now?"  
  
"When you are ready, I will return to you what is yours."  
  
"How?"  
  
"We must kiss." Severus ground his teeth, clearly he did not believe that Harry would want his soul under such a condition.  
  
Eyes widening a little, Harry shifted on the bed, "What? You and me?" He asked as though it were a potion instruction he'd misheard.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Harry's expression changed a little and he looked away, his face unreadable. "You'd ... be okay with that?"  
  
"Yes." Severus kept answering as if he were still under the effects of the veritaserum, because in fact, he was.  
  
It was embarrassing, but Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd kissed anyone. Ginny during school? That seemed like a lifetime ago, and he'd since moved on in a very different direction ... in theory. There never seemed to be time for anyone besides a quick grope or more in a club, and there was never kissing involved then.   
  
The longer the silence lasted, the more agitated Severus became until he suddenly began to talk to Harry as if he were still in his class, coming in late on an important day, "If it’s not that important to you, then I’m sorry you wasted both our time."  
  
Harry frowned and looked over, "That's not what I was thinking." He snapped a little, arms crossed over his chest.  
  
"Then what is the problem?"  
  
A deep sigh swelled and emptied his lungs and Harry looked up at him, "You shouldn't have to kiss someone you don't want to. I don't ... I know it's not that sort of kiss but-"  
  
Severus scoffed, he hadn’t kissed since the day he took to guarding Harry’s soul, "Of course I want to."   
  
Harry shook his head, dismissing the idea, "No, you don't."  
  
"I don’t believe you should be telling me, what I do and do not want."  
  
Harry felt like his whole body was filled with pins and needles and he suddenly had a hard time staying still. "Well ... " he took a deep breath, unable to meet Snape's eyes as he felt an embarrassing and telltale blush drench his cheeks. "Alright, then ..."  
  
That was the closest to consent as Severus believed he would receive. He stepped closer to the bed, to Harry, "Yes?"  
  
Harry's skin went rosy under his green eyes, which were hidden under his black eyelashes. His throat felt dry and like the sides of it stuck together inside his body. He meant to say  _yes_  or  _sure_  but all that came out was an incomprehensible sort of mumble and a nod, the back of his neck going scarlet under his hair.  
  
Pressing a knee into the bed, Severus leaned over Harry, slowly reaching up, placing his hand behind Harry’s neck; as once the transfer began, it should not be interrupted. He moved slow to give Harry time to change his mind. But then their lips touched, Severus kept his eyes lightly closed, and caressing his mouth open, they began to kiss.   
  
Harry felt the touch, felt his head tipped back with all the care of a seasoned healer and then ... His blood felt like it was champagne, bubbling happily in his veins, making him feel lighter and lighter, pleasantly dizzy. He moaned, his lips parting wider, hands brushing the heavy nape of Snape's robes on his shoulders as they kissed.  
  
It was now, as they kissed, did Severus realize just how much of the young soul he had taken that day. As he gave it back, he could feel the goodness of himself leave his body, and he understood just how much of Harry he had been living off of all these years. He kissed Harry harder, this might be his last kiss after giving Harry his soul back, Severus was not sure he would have anything left to live on. It was borrowed strength that was leaving him, Severus began to lean against Harry’s body, determined to give it all back.  
  
Harry groaned again and pulled Severus closer, their tongues twisting, Harry's long legs curling in with Snape's.  
  
Severus moved a hand to Harry’s chest, imagining that there had been a place there, inside, empty and vacant, now filling up. The kiss slowed, Harry had what belonged to him. Severus turned his head and coughed, too desperate to be embarrassed by the fact that he was holding onto Harry for support.   
  
Harry turned Severus's head back towards him, resting his head against his own, wide shoulder and keeping him close, arms around his former professor's back, waiting until he stopped coughing to bow his own head and kiss Severus again.  
  
 _Thank you._  Severus kept his eyes closed, head resting on Harry’s shoulder as he stilled, completely quiet. All he could hear was someone’s heart beat in his ear. He guessed it was Harry.   
  
Harry's eyes widened as he felt Severus's pulse slow and he tried to hold Snape up so they could look at each other, but it was impossible, he was going limp and cold, so Harry laid him on the bed, looking down at him, "Take it back! Take it back, I didn't need it that badly! I didn't know ... just take it back again, you did it once-"  
  
 _I didn’t know either._  Severus wanted to assure. He felt he was looking at Harry plainly enough, though it was really only through tinny slits in his eyelids.  _It doesn’t hurt,_  which was interesting to Severus, because life was pain, it was what he had been taught, it was what he expected. So why was he still here? Why could he still hear and see Harry?  
  
"Severus-" Harry frowned over him, "please-" he kissed him, "please, please just take it back, take it back-"  
  
"Oh-" Severus sighed softly as if he had just eaten and was savoring the best tasting food he had ever known. He was tired, yes, but he wasn’t dead. He had imagined that after so many years of killing, there would be nothing left of himself, and yet here he was. In keeping Harry’s sole safe all those years, he had kept some of himself safe, separate. His cold fingers reached for Harry’s hand, "Harry …?"  
  
Harry looked almost frozen with fear, he'd been able to do so much, he'd destroyed so much because it's what he'd been trained to do since he was eleven but now that his nemesis was still and white under him, blue barely lacing his lips, Harry felt like a child, terrified in a cupboard under the stairs. Harry clutched his hands, both of them, keeping them close to his chest, "Stay," he breathed, "you have to stay here."  
  
 _Since when did you start ordering me around?_  Severus forced himself to focus on Harry. In a way he could see him still, as the infant in his arms, the boy at school, the great defender, the champion of the wizarding world. Severus’s dark eyes searched Harry for the answer of what he felt was the most important question,  _why?_    
  
Snape was kissed again, a deep, demanding, full kiss trying to anchor him to the land of the living.   
  
"Mmm-" Severus hummed, relaxed as Harry kissed him. It was nice. Harry hadn’t gotten what he came for and left, he was still there, touching, speaking, kissing.  
  
Harry climbed over Severus, covering him with his body as he breathed between their mouths for a second. The hero, (supposedly fearless) felt his hands shake against Snape's body, his lungs felt like they were burning up inside, bellows that squeezed whenever he inhaled. "Say something-" his sweating palms gripped Snape's sweater, "Snape, come on, something ..."  
  
" _Something._ " Severus said with the smallest of smiles. It was exhausting, but Severus opened his eyes, looking up at Harry, "… it worked alright then."   
  
Harry's eyes looked like two green saucers with pinpricks of black in them, "Don't ..." he whispered, "don't you dare joke about this right now ..."   
  
The small smile became a smirk, playful. But he found himself without another comeback, he was … staring? Gazing? No! Not gazing, most definitely not gazing. But he was looking at the young man over him, unable to say anything.  
  
Harry's young throat flexed with a swallow, and he licked his lips, "Since you're the one I almost, very nearly, just now killed and you're hanging on to life with the barest of fingertips-" Harry allowed himself to return Severus's almost-smile, "would you ... should I keep kissing you?"  
  
It wasn’t necessary, Severus was no longer feeding off of the strength or goodness of Harry’s soul as he might have been doing all these years; and he was not about to take back what he had just given, but kissing Harry? What a hardship. "Yes, you should."  
  
The last word didn't make it all the way out of Severus's mouth before Harry covered it again with his own, soft and warm. Harry's young body remained over Snape, covering him carefully as though a blast had gone off beside them and Harry was doing his duty to protect the innocent.  _The innocent_ , he thought, with a small smile against Snape's lips.  
  
"Are you laughing?" Severus mumbled, both hands resting against Harry’s outer thighs.  
  
Harry shook his head with a smile, cupping Snape's face, "Just never thought this would happen ..." he kissed him again, administering them like medicine.  
  
Reaching a hand up, Severus cupped it against Harry’s warm neck, he could feel his pulses, his heart beat. He looked into Harry’s eyes; when had the boy, stopped being a boy? When had he become this man, who was kissing him?  
  
"Are you-" Harry kissed him again, mid sentence, only because their lips had brushed and ... and he _had_ to. "Are you ... okay?" He managed to get out, very aware that yes, they were in bed, and yes, he'd never been in bed with anyone he wanted to kiss.  
  
"So it would appear."  
  
"Did you ..." Harry paused a little against Snape's lips, and looked down at him, "you met me knowing that someday you were going to have to kiss me ... you knew the whole time I was in school that we were going to have to ..."  
  
"Yes." But in Lily’s words, and rightly so, Snape was forbidden from favoring Harry. It would have made their relationship all too suspicious.   
  
Harry kissed him again, lightly, "Did you think about it often?"  
  
"Not until recently."  
  
"Recently ... meaning when you sent me the letter?"  
  
"Recently, implying a month after I was sure the last of Voldemort’s cult of followers were killed."  
  
The auror's glass green eyes widened, "What?" he asked, barely above a whisper.  
  
"What do you mean, _what_? Just as I said, I waited until every possible threat had been exterminated."  
  
"What do you mean ... you were sure every last death eater was killed?"  
  
"I feel like I am repeating myself, of which I do not make a habit of." Severus frowned before he explained, "I waited until the ministry cast the death sentence upon Alecto and Amycus, thankfully Bella had been taking care of during the last battle, as had Rodolphus and Rabastan, Kingsley I believe can be accredited for McNair and Rookwood. You and Lupin, I believe, took care of Greyback, Travers, and Avery. The rest, were either set up for capture by the ministry, or … have been taken care of, personally. So again I say, I waited until I was sure that every possible threat had been eliminated."   
  
Harry held up a hand, "What do you mean personally?"  
  
Severus was amused, he laughed lightly as Harry raised his hand,  _this is not class, Mr Potter._  "Just as I said."  
  
Harry glared, white faced again. His skin was exhausted from going red and white over and over again, "Did you kill them!?"  
  
"I did." Severus admitted flawlessly.  
  
"Crabbe, Dolohov-" Harry recited the names of the remaining death eaters he'd been hunting for for years, "Goyle, Jugson and Mulciber? All of them!?"  
  
"Dolohov, yes. Voldemort dealt with Crabbe, and Goyle before the end. Jugson, yes. Mulciber, yes. As well as several others not on any Ministry want-list."  
  
Harry just stared, blankly, speechless. "You got them all ..." he murmured, "there ... the death eaters are ... gone."  
  
"Yes." If Harry and the other aurors were lucky, with all their hard work and detective work to track down the last of Voldemort’s followers, they _might_ find bodies, but it wasn’t likely.   
  
"I ..." he leaned down, resting his head against Snape's, their foreheads touching, "He would have been ... proud."  
  
"Not really." Severus said blankly.  
  
"You saved people from ... uprisings, disappearances, revenge."  
  
"I don’t wish to discuss it. After I am arrested, I shall confess and testify to their deaths, nothing more, I do not wish to discuss it."   
  
"I'm not going to arrest you!"  
  
" _Ministry of Magic, auror 2nd class, Mr Harry Potter_ , are you not bound to by law?"  
  
Harry got out of bed, looking down at Snape with an almost expressionless face. "Tell me why, then. Tell me why you killed him."  
  
Snape’s lower left eyelid twitched as he met Harry’s gaze, not recoiling, but sitting up in bed. "The short answer, Harry, is because he asked me to."  
  
"You're under formal interrogation, Mr. Snape-" Harry's voice was sharp, "you have the option to confess under the influence of veritaserum, you have the option to refuse the veritaserum." Harry summoned another, small, sealed bottle from inside his coat, which hung on the back of a chair.  
  
Severus raised a thick, black eyebrow, this was no interrogation he had ever encountered before. But he stood from bed, this was what Harry wanted? A little role playing activity to see how far he could push him? "I accept."   
  
Harry's entire demeanor had changed, he straightened to his full height, his eyes sharpened and even as he uncorked the bottle, he didn't turn his body away from Snape at any time. Harry pulled his wand out and sealed the window and the door shut, as well as the closet. Next, he conjured a glass of water and added five drops before handing the glass to Snape.  
  
Diluted in water, Severus knew himself well enough to know that he would need another dose sooner, then it might have if he had just taken the potion directly. But he drank the glass offered him.  
  
Harry waited three seconds, "State your name for the record."  
  
"Severus Snape."  
  
Harry nodded, "Did you or did you not kill Albus Dumbledore?"  
  
"I did."  
  
"Where you at the time of Albus Dumbledore's death a member of The Order of the Phoenix?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Who in the Order gave you your orders?"  
  
"Albus Dumbledore."  
  
"What on the night in question did Albus Dumbledore order you to do?"  
  
Severus closed his eyes for a moment, listening back to the voice in his head,  _Severus, please …_ he opened his eyes again, "He ordered me to follow through with the agreed plan. He ordered me to kill him."   
  
"When was this plan established?"  
  
"The agreed plan: should he become ill or otherwise incapacitated, I was to publicly execute him. In doing so, it meant keeping Draco Malfoy safe; in doing so, it meant I could gain favor and be closer to Voldemort then anyone else."  
  
"How would this keep Draco Malfoy safe?"  
  
"By killing Dumbledore, I was fulfilling Voldemort’s task for Draco. Together, we were protecting his soul from being torn by such an act. After the fact, once I was favored by Voldemort, I would be able to ensure Draco and his mother Narcissa were protected, and later forgotten by both death eaters and aurors alike."  
  
"When Dumbledore first ordered you to kill him in such a situation, what was your initial reaction?" Harry asked shrewdly.  
  
"Anger. Frustration."   
  
"Did you let him know you disagreed?"  
  
"Many times."  
  
"And did he insist?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But you eventually agreed to follow his orders?"  
  
"Yes." Severus refilled the conjured glass of water, holding it out for Harry for more veritaserum.   
  
Harry paused, got rid of the glass and water, re-conjured it and added five drops of veritaserum, handing it to Severus. "Is there anyone else in the Order who gave you direct orders?"  
  
Severus drank, then sighed as he answered, "No."  
  
"If Voldemort's orders conflicted directly with Dumbledore's, whose wishes would you often find a way to follow, no matter what?"  
  
"Dumbledore's orders."  
  
"Always?"  
  
"Always."  _Not just at great personal risk, but at great personal pain_.   
  
"Were you frequently dishonest with Voldemort?"  
  
"More then frequently."  
  
"Were you ever dishonest with Dumbledore?"  
  
"Never."  
  
"Would you characterize Dumbledore as your sole commanding authority while he lived?"  
  
"Yes. And to be clear. In death, as well."  
  
Harry nodded, still watching Snape with eyes that didn't seem to blink, "When, in your opinion, did the second war begin?"  
  
"Answering under the assumption that the first war ever ended, for me, the second war began when Voldemort possessed Professor Quirrell."  
  
"Then by your own measure, you were a soldier for the Order of the Phoenix when you obeyed Dumbledore's direct orders to kill him?"  
  
"I was not a soldier."  
  
"Then what were you?"  
  
"My occupation for the Order was spy. But when I obeyed Dumbledore, I was not killing him as a spy, or as you put it, a soldier following orders. When I obeyed, I was his friend."  _His son. His successor._  
  
Harry considered for a long moment, "When you killed Dumbledore-" the auror had to pause for just a flicker of an instant, "what was the state of his health?" Harry busied himself preparing another glass of veritaserum for his suspect.  
  
"The cells of Dumbledore’s right arm were dead, side effects from destroying the horcrux within Slytherin’s ring. He was also suffering from the poisons he consumed while attempting to retrieve Slytherin’s locket."   
  
"Was there any chance of saving his life that night?"  
  
This was the hard part. Severus had not been given the opportunity to treat Dumbledore. He _obeyed_ Dumbledore, despite what Snape might have wanted for himself. "There might have been an antidote, I shall never know, as I was not given the opportunity. But as for saving his life? No, there was no chance. Dumbledore had made his decision, and I obeyed."   
  
"So then, Dumbledore would have died that evening no matter what. If you had not killed him, if you had refused, what do you think his actions might have been?"  
  
"If I had refused … I believe he would have instigated a duel, forcing me to attack. But again, I do not know if he would have died. Perhaps the poison would have killed him without antidote. Perhaps one of the death eaters would have done it, or considered capturing Dumbledore, presenting him to Voldemort himself. This is only speculation, I do not know."  
  
Harry nodded, and his expression softened a little before he took his gaze off of Severus for the first time since he'd started asking questions. "Is there anything else you'd like to say?"  
  
 _I have done everything asked of me_. "No."  
  
"Do you ..." he leaned back against the dresser a little, relaxing his posture, "do you think you deserve to be punished?"  
  
Severus swallowed, it was the first indication that he had lost focus. The silence lingered while Severus attempted to fight himself and the truth that veritaserum demanded of him, "Yes."  
  
"Is there anyone in the wizarding world besides myself who knows that you live here?"  
  
"No."  
  
Harry nodded and paced before he turned and stared out the window at the nearly familiar scenery beyond, it was like a second Scotland.  _New Scotland. Nova Scotia._  The silence stretched out for what felt like hours before the young auror spoke, "Dumbledore said, when I was young, that choices are what makes a person who they really are ..." Harry ran his hands through his black hair, "what would it make me if I chose to report that no one was here when I arrived? That no one had ever heard of you?"  
  
As Harry paced, Severus sat, "It would make you the protector of Dumbledore’s killer." He chose the logical answer, rather then psychological, or personal answer,  _it makes you merciful._  
  
"It would ..." Harry nodded and sat on the bed, feeling clearer than he could ever remember feeling before as he looked at the dresser opposite Snape and himself. "I'm a killer too, you know."  
  
"I know." Severus answered, "But history is written by the victors. History will remember and think of you as a hero, who saved lives, who did what was necessary. Which means history will remember me as a spy, a traitor, a murderer. Despite other facts. No one will remember the things you did wrong, only the right, only the good. It is the opposite for me."   
  
"And it's not right ..." Harry's voice was hoarse, raw and worn as though he'd been using someone else's voice for years and finally stopped. "Because I was just ... a kid that was taught to suck it up and kill or no one else would. I don't feel like a hero. I don't feel like I've done something great, and I didn't just kill Voldemort ..." He went suddenly quiet, "I killed people, innocent because I didn't know how to stop myself, because I didn't take the threat seriously. Cedric should still be alive, Sirius should still be alive, but because I was stupid and reckless, they're both dead. Greyback's dead- he was awful but I killed him. I killed death eaters whose faces I never saw under the black cloaks, I hit a few bystanders fighting Voldemort and they died, no one talks about them, or the mistakes I made after."  
  
"It was Lily’s worst fear that you should have to kill at all. The world needed a leader, and everyone else was too afraid to do it themselves, so they nominated you, pushed you forward and said go. I am consumed by my mistakes, it is all people see, it is therefore all I see. It is driving me mad. It is not a path you need to go down."  
  
"I killed a suspect last year." Harry felt like he wasn't breathing at all, but he was panting shallowly.  
  
 _Very well. You want to go down this path. Then we shall, together._  "I don’t even know why you are an auror, why you are working for the ministry. Anything after battling the dark lord, I would think, would be a bit anti climatic."  
  
"I can't stop," he looked at Snape, "I feel like if I stop, it'll all happen again, if I quit the ministry, if I quit watching ... " Harry swallowed, "I didn't mean to kill him ..." he sounded numb, numb with disgust, "he killed some kids, he killed kids in Hogsmede and did ... " Harry closed his eyes, "he did things with their bodies, mailed the arms to their mother ..." The young wizard, still only just over twenty two leaned down, face in his hands, "He bragged about cutting a hole into the boy's forehead and I hit him. I only hit him once. I swear I only hit him once, but I woke up in Moody's office, tied down and ..." his shoulders heaved silently and Harry straightened. "You're not the one who needs to be locked up," he looked at Severus, "you saved Draco, you saved me so many bloody times."  
  
"It has changed now. That was the old part of yourself Harry. The tiny shred of soul I left you, broken and torn over and over. You get a new start. You have your soul now, in its entirety. And it is  _good_. That was your old self Harry, incomplete and distorted."  
  
The men sat in silence on the edge of the bed, facing the same way, both staring at the old wooden dresser ahead of them. "I should need time to think about this ... " Harry said, pulling out his wand and laying it in his own hands, admiring it. "I have a life back there, don't I?" He seemed to be speaking to himself, but the truth was Harry wasn't living anymore, he was just trying not to destroy anyone else and wondering if he should turn himself into the same sick red mist he'd cut Voldemort into. "I thought I could stop being afraid of him after he was dead but I just feel like ... I feel like I might turn into him."  
  
"That was always a risk." Severus’s eyes dulled, tired, sad.  
  
"Then you have to do it ..." he handed his wand over to Severus, "you have to get rid of Harry Potter." He looked at Severus again, a tiny, sad smile at the corner of his lips.  
  
Severus held the wand, eyes down, focused upon the object. He hadn't held one in months, it felt like another life altogether. But holding the wand on end, pointed directly up, the piece of wood with phoenix feather core went up into flames in the palm of Severus’s hand. "Harry Potter-" Severus said simply, "you are missing in action, the wizarding world will miss, but not forget you."  
  
 _I'm a muggle, again_. Snape's upturned palm, now empty of Harry's wand was filled with Harry's hand that had finally stopped shaking, his long fingers wrapped into Snape's, locking their palms together. Wordlessly, Harry pulled Snape down on the bed again and curled around him, his head on Severus's chest. "Thank you."

 

*            *            *

 

A man, older then the other trendy occupants of the Noodle Bar sat on a stool, leaning against the countertop as he read from the menu. His black hair was cut short, uniform, even in the back where it tapered just at the collar of his shirt. He wore prescriptionless glasses, perfectly rectangle, with solid black framing as one might see out of some high end European magazine. He turned the pages of his menu with slightly rough hands while hot tea steeped in the cup before him.  
  
The glass door opened, sending planes of sunlight through the tiny, black and red restaurant and a young man stepped in. The new customer was tall with shaggy dark hair that looked reddened by exposure to the summer sun, his green eyes could be seen clearly, unhidden behind glasses and he strode over to the counter, pursuing a menu while he undid his light, hooded sweatshirt.  
  
"Their soup is a meal unto itself." The older man noted as he glanced to the young man who just joined him.  
  
The younger, athletic looking man looked over at the stranger, lifting an eyebrow, "Yeah?" There was no trace of a British accent on the younger man's voice, he could have been from the busy, west-coast city.  
  
The man smiled.  _So, you found me_. The former wizard (and so many things) had seen enough in his life that not much surprised him any more. He closed his menu, and when the waitress came to fetch his order, he was still smiling, "I’ll have a number 5, no egg please. And put whatever this young man orders on my bill."   
  
The young man laughed and closed the menu, "Thanks ... you always buy lunch for complete strangers?"  
  
"Always?" The man tisked, "I would be broke, if it were  _always_." He remained leaning against the countertop as he spoke with the young man, "No, I buy lunch when a particularly determined young man with green eyes and dark hair sits down with me in a terribly obscure location."  
  
Said determined young man grinned brightly and ordered from the girl behind the counter, "I'll have a number five with tea, thanks." He turned his attention back to the other man at the counter, "I like your glasses, used to wear them myself ..."  
  
"Contacts then?" The man prompted, sipping his now properly brewed, properly cooled tea.  
  
The young man leaned a little closer, "Is it obvious?"  
  
"No. An assumption. It was either that or surgery."   
  
"Not a fan of surgery, I have enough scars as it is." He beamed, taking his tea and sipping it slowly, the steam curling around his face. "So do you have a place around here?"  
  
"That’s a bit forward, don’t you think? I don’t even know your name."  
  
"I'm not inviting myself over or anything," he smirked, "but you sound like you're from England, so I wanted to know if you're living here or just on your way through."  
  
"That all depends." The man said simply, "… do you live locally?"  
  
"I do, actually, yeah. I'm a student around here, I have an apartment of my own."  
  
"A student, hm?" The older man nodded, tapping his pointer finger on the countertop to focus his excess energy, "Then do you work as well, or just school?"  
  
"I work a few nights a week in a bookstore on Davie Street," he nodded his head outside towards the street he was talking about, "but I go to school during the day a few blocks away, its not bad."  
  
The man pulled off his glasses for a moment, wiping his eyes as he laughed. But in this particular neighborhood, for the young man to say that he worked at a book store on Davie was like saying,  _I’m a fag, want to shag?_  "Good" he finally swallowed, composing himself, "good for you." He placed his glasses back on his face, "Do you mind me asking what you study?"  
  
"Going to work in a medical lab," he nodded, "good pay, normal hours, nice and peaceful. I don't want a job that's going to follow me home and take over, you know? I'd rather have a life" the young man smiled, "so have you decided if you live here or not?"  
  
"I live here." He smiled with a nod, assuring the young man that he would not bolt at first light to start over again somewhere else,  _again_.  
  
"What's your name?" The green-eyed man extended his hand.  
  
"Steven." The man took the hand offered him, holding it and shaking.  
  
"Nice to meet you, Steven" the young man held Steven's hand, beaming at him, "my name is Laurence, but you can call me Larry if you want."  
  
"Well Larry, it’s good to meet you." He smirked.  
  
Larry didn't let go of Steven's hand, "It's funny," his eyes softened a little, "I feel like I know you, already."  
  
"Really?" he smiled a little, "I was going to say the same." He bit at his lower lip then grinned devilishly, "I don’t suppose you like older queers who have fine taste?"   
  
"I do if they buy me lunch."  
  
"Well, good thing then, got that covered."  
  
"We can always get lunch boxed up and have it at my place ..."  
  
"An invitation then? I accept."  
  
Their soup and fortune cookies were bagged quickly and in minutes, they were opening the door of Larry's surprisingly large, modern apartment.

"See?" the dark haired boy beamed, leading Steven to the window and wrapping his arms around him from behind, "ocean view."  
  
Steven smiled, pleased as he touched Larry’s arm which held him. "It’s lovely" he said, eyes half closing as a pet might when they really enjoyed something.  
  
"I hoped you'd say that" he murmured, kissing the side of Steven's neck, as though they'd done it a thousand times.  
  
"Mm-" Steven turned, facing the young man who was as tall as he was. They kissed, and the older man smiled as he leaned back against the wall beside the window, touching the younger man’s hips, the small of his back, palming the soft rise of his ass.  
  
"We can ..." Larry groaned, backing Steven to the bedroom, "move your things in ... later ..."  
  
"Mhm." Steven moaned into Larry’s mouth, going a little limp in the stronger young man’s arms.  
  
Steven's feet left the ground and his back was pressed against the wall of Larry's bedroom, clothes slipping off, falling to the floor around them both, "missed you-"  
  
"Yes?" The older man smiled, honestly touched as he fingered the base of Larry’s neck and his shaggy hair.  
  
"You're bloody hard to find ..." he kissed Steven again, softer, moaning as he carried him to the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> co-authored. originally written for thestralskinphoenixtears


End file.
